


The Dance

by RoNask



Series: 101 Prompts Challenge [40]
Category: American Horror Story
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, I did, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, You Might Need To Bathe On Holy Water, lap dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoNask/pseuds/RoNask
Summary: 68. "Round two, baby"
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Series: 101 Prompts Challenge [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503173
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	The Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cordeliagoode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliagoode/gifts).

> I'm gifting this to Is because I hope this kills her. And you all.

_ “You really need to chill, Cordy.” _

The phrase was how it all began. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have given Madison’s words a second thought.

_ Under normal circumstances. _

Normally, she  _ wouldn’t _ have a pile of work that just never seemed to end, a just as endless pile of student files to organize, an uncooperative realtor who just wouldn’t understand she had no wish to go out with him, an actress that just wouldn’t leave her alone about going out with her and the girls because of her last, but recurring, case of “blue vulva”, - as it was seemingly called -, involving a certain swamp witch.

Add to that the fact that she really was getting cranky and Madison wasn’t the only one telling her to “chill”.

That was how it began, that was how she ended up studying her reflection in the bedroom mirror, with a grinning Coco behind her.

“It’s perfect,” the younger woman said.

Goode made a face, “It is better than what Madison suggested.”

“Oh, definitely!” said Vanderbilt, “Want me to do your makeup? I did Misty’s and, have to say, it turned out great, I’m very proud of the result,” she could hardly contain her grin.

“I’ll be fine, thank you, Coco,” said the Supreme.

“Alright. I’ll meet you downstairs then. And, please, don’t take long, Madison gets really bitchy.”

“I’ll be there,” assured Goode.

She sighed as soon as the other witch was out. She met her own eyes in the mirror.

“C’mon, it’s just one night. You’ll be fine.”

_ Right? _

  
  


_ Right? _

Cordelia almost choked on her shot when the question came back to her mind.

It was unclear who she had underestimated: Madison, the night, or the alcohol. Perhaps all of them.

She  _ was _ relaxed, there was no way she wouldn’t be after the irresponsible amount of alcohol in her system. The tensions of the day - or most of them - had been replaced with light-headedness. Her main concern at the moment was the attention Madison shot her occasionally, how good Misty looked on her current outfit, and the next shot.

“You bitches are boring!” exclaimed Montgomery over the music.

“And you’re an annoying bitch,” replied Day before downing a shot.

“I’m cooler than your swamp ass,” answered the actress.

“From whose persp-perspective?” the Cajun glared.

“Everyone’s!”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Goode.

“Of course,” the actress rolled her eyes, then faced Misty, “If you’re so cool, let’s make a bet.”

Day rose an eyebrow, “Name it.”

“I dare you to give Cordelia a lap dance,” she said, “Do a good one and I’ll pay for any meal you want.”

“And if I lose?” questioned the necromancer.

Montgomery smirked, “You do my laundry and call me ‘genius’ for a whole month.”

“Like hell I’m calling you that,” said Misty.

“Do the dance, then.”

The other witches watched the exchanged feeling a tad sober than when it all began.

“Fine,” declared Day.

“Oh, God! Really?!” Coco had her eyes wide, but the necromancer was already on her feet.

Misty pulled a chair and set it aside, then eyed Cordelia, “Ma’am.”

The headmistress swallowed, “Okay.”

Goode sat down, she could sense the girls watching the two of them, however, it didn’t take long for her to ignore the feeling as Misty’s eyes met hers and, doing her best to follow the beat, she started swaying her hips.

If it was a professional, it might not have had the same effect on the Supreme. There was something entirely Misty’s when the necromancer moved. An enticing detail that had Cordelia’s mouth gaping and forcing her to swallow when the Cajun got even closer.

Normal lap dancing would mean Cordelia was obligated to keep her hands to herself, which was why her knuckles were going white as she held on to the chair.

_ Talk about blue vulva. _

“Jesus, next time I’m telling her to do body shots,” Madison’s voice cut through the haze.

Goode moved to make a comment, but Day’s hand caught her chin.

“Eyes on me,” the necromancer’s hoarse voice said, making the other nod.

“You’re not supposed to touch,” said the headmistress.

“ _ You _ are not supposed to touch, I can do anything I want to you.”

“Right,” came the breathless response.

“But I’m no real dancer,” added Misty, swaying even closer.

“No,” muttered the Supreme, “You’re not.”

“Those rules don’t apply.”

Their eyes met, “They don’t,” whispered Cordelia.

Misty gasped. She probably wasn’t the only one given their audience, but Cordelia had both her hands on the Cajun’s hips and couldn’t care less about the rest of the world. Not when Misty was shifting on her lap as if she had every right to make the headmistress go made with want for her.

“Geez, get a room!” Montgomery shot.

“Should we?” teased Day.

“If you want to,” their lips were suddenly brushing.

One of them closed the distance. Once again, everyone gasped.

It went on as it began. Hot, deep, exploratory. Their hands pulling, tugging, squeezing.

Madison said something, but neither of them heard.

  
  


Cordelia groaned when Day’s panties were out of the way and her digits felt the burning warmth.

It was a miracle they had made it all the way to Cordelia’s bedroom without being arrested for public indecency. Especially because they hardly breathed at the cab on the way back.

“Take it off,” Misty protested, pulling at the Supreme’s pants.

Goode willed her hands pinned to the wall and grinned widely at the Cajun.

“Delia…” the necromancer tried, but the only response she got was the tortuous way the Supreme took her dress off and undid her bra. When she leaned down and caught a breast inside her mouth, the swam witch moaned.

At the same moment, she sank her fingers between the necromancer’s legs, exploring every inch of wetness before slipping inside Misty’s burning cunt.

Cordelia leaned closer, she planted a peck on Day’s lips, trailed up her neck, then her ear.

Whatever filth she muttered had the Cajun whining, body arching, pleading for release.

The Supreme kissed her, hard, stealing breath and sanity.

Misty cried on her mouth at each skilled thrust from her lover.

She cried out, walls contracting, fluids dripping, legs shaking.

“Delia…” she muttered.

“Look at me.”

Misty did, watched her Supreme lick each finger clean of her fluids.

The magic that kept her wrists against the wall gave away.

“Go to bed,” said Cordelia, “I’d call this a round two, baby, but this has been merely an appetizer,” she added, making Day flush red. “Come on, we have the whole night.”

They did.


End file.
